Animal Collective

Black Cat, Washington, D.C.: 25 April 2005

The Paw Tracks double bill blows through the Capitol. Ariel Pink's rep as a live act is spotty, with reports of sound problems and sets cut short by tantrums. On this night he stuck it out, though he looked nervous, like he'd rather be somewhere else. Back in his LA bedroom with his 4-track, maybe, where he is master of his domain. He kept his eyes down and never looked at the audience once as he obsessively paced back and forth, a wounded dog chained to the stage by his mike. His three-piece band lighted cigarettes and fiddled with buttons (in that order) to replicate and amplify the endlessly echoing lo-fi pop cacophony of his recorded sound. It could have been worse, but it didn't really work. Ariel Pink's music exists in relation to radio, drawing inspiration from collective memories of fluffy AM pop seamed with static by a tuner off by a half click. Something essential to the project is lost onstage.

If Ariel Pink delivered the (damaged and generally unappealing) goods as expected, Animal Collective was full of surprises, offering their own idiosyncratic version of a rock show. The full quartet was on hand. As Deakin and Avey Tare grabbed guitars and began strumming, setting in motion a drone that would continue unabated for the next 90 minutes, I had an image of shop employees going from one corner of the warehouse to the next, flicking on an endless sea of humming florescent lights to start the work day.

Panda Bear stepped behind the meager drum kit, keeping an electronic device and microphone handy, and the bearded Geologist disappeared below crowd-head level to tinker with noise machines somewhere downstage. Once the venue was full of sound, a drum machine thump came up and they launched into "Kids on Holiday". The delicacy of Avey Tare's articulation was a sharp contrast to surrounding tunnel of noise. You could really hear the British folk influence on the tune's simple melody, and Avey sounded like a youthful Donavan trapped inside the closing "You Made Me Realise" D-chord. When the screaming "Holiday!" chant came in toward the end, Geologist popped out of his electronic burrow and danced wildly around the stage, his spelunker's headlamp outlining the delirious spazziness of moves.

So, yeah, the band was stoked and the feeling was catching. The music unfolded as a series of expansions and contractions, long passages of layered drone that led from one segment of song to the next. Most of the material was new. Some peaks were intense meditations on a single strummed chord progression a la VU's "What Goes On", others threw the drum machine into techno overdrive and brought the tribal elements to the fore. About 90% of the vocals were from Avey Tare, with Panda chipping in only for occasional harmonies.

With the constantly shifting tapestry of sound, it was impossible to tell who was doing what. Sometimes as a passage started its final ascent toward an ecstatic peak, Deakin would yank off his guitar to clap and hop around the stage, a gesture so dorky it became cool. But when his instrument dropped out the sound hardly changed. Eventually, for the closing "We Tigers", Avey Tare began preaching the forest gospel, everything but the drums was put away, and the remaining three gathered around the kit to bang away and chant. In short order The Geologist made off with the snare so he could stalk the stage. As they finished the audience got its first chance to show its appreciation, but by then they were drained and tired. After a few minutes of cheering Animal Collective returned for a brief encore and another drum circle. Overkill, perhaps, but certainly earned.